The Truth Will Out
by Rice Pips
Summary: An unwanted visitor at Home Farm brings trouvlecabd bad memories for Joe Tate and his right hand man, Graham. I do not own the characters or places mentioned. I write purely for my own pleasure and make no money from this.
1. Chapter 1

(A/N: my own head canon, slightly AU as it stands, just words that wanted out of my brain. I have a vague idea where I'm going with it. Un-beta'd So all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!)

Joe opened the front door to Home Farm, his ancestral home, and felt the tension in his muscles step up a notch. Something didn't feel right, but since buying this godforsaken Manor House, nothing had truly felt right.

It was disconcerting to him, he had truly thought that taking back his family home would end the perpetual feeling of loneliness and anchor him in a way he hadn't experienced since he had been orphaned. Instead, he had felt the loneliness increase and felt his grip on his life begin to slip further from his grasp.

Today was different though as he entered the hauntingly large hallway. Something really did feel off. As if another presence was in the house. Shaking off this feeling, Joe headed into the kitchen and stopped dead.

"Hello, Joe," said a soft American voice.

Joe gazed back at the face of the woman he hadn't seen in almost 3 years. He took in her appearance. The dark brown hair, styled into a perfect chignon at the back of her elegant neck. Her piercing blue eyes, the flawless complexion of her face, the hint of blush upon her cheeks, the elegant fit of her dark blue dress, showing a respectable, yet pleasing amount of cleavage and emphasising her tiny waist perfectly. Her long legs were crossed elegantly as she perched on one of his breakfast bar stools, her feet adorned with high heeled shiny blue shoes. Everything about her oozed class, yet, danger.

"Laura," Joe grimaced. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you," she retorted, raising an elegant eyebrow.

"It's my home," Joe replied defensively.

They stared at each other for a long moment before a clattering noise disturbed the moment for them both.

"So that's everything cleaned, Mr Tate. I'll be back..." Lydia began, stopping short as she laid eyes upon his guest. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you had a guest..."

"Laura Foster," the woman greeted, as if asked to divulge her name, but then that had always been Laura all over. Always muscling in on things that never truly involved her.

"Thank you, Lydia," Joe cut in, not wanting his nosy cleaner to spend any time near this woman. "See you tomorrow."

Lydia looked between Joe and Laura and seeing her employer's expression, nodded. "Indeed you will." She gathered her things and made a quick exit.

As the door closed behind her, Joe turned back to Laura, infuriated by the amused look upon her face.

"So, you're still using his surname," he noted.

Laura shrugged nonchalantly, "It was easier," she stated.

"And, you're still his wife." It was unclear whether this was a statement or a question.

"I am," Laura replied with a sly smile, and Joe couldn't help noting the gold band that still adorned her wedding ring finger.

"What do you want?" Joe demanded, his frustration threatening to bubble over.

"Where is he?" Laura replied, sliding off the stool to stand before him, her petite frame much smaller than his, yet her persona no match for him. This was not a woman to be trifled with, she had always frightened Joe.

Taking a step back, "I don't know," Joe admitted, though it pained him to do so for more reasons than he cared to admit.

Laura's expression faltered slightly as she searched his face, "Don't mess with me," she hissed.

"I swear, Laura," Joe said quickly. "I haven't heard from him in days."

Laura held her stance for a moment before stepping back, she folded her arms, "I don't believe you."

"It's true. We...argued, he hasn't been back and I can't get hold of him," Joe said, desperately wishing his right hand man was here to help him out.

Laura stared at him, making him sweat. She'd always had that effect upon him, as if she could see right inside him and see every mistake, every thought. She suddenly laughed, "So, the Bromance is dead? What did you do? Or, what did he do?"

Joe felt his irritation grow, "Nothing. It was a...misunderstanding."

Laura laughed, a hollow, frightening sound.

"Why are you here, Laura?" Joe asked. "It's been 3 years."

"As you said, I'm still his wife," Laura replied, unfolding her arms and running a manicured finger across the marble surface of his breakfast bar.

"But, why now?" Joe pressed.

Laura spun round and hit him with a fierce glare, "I want answers, Joe. I want to know why you are here, in this God-awful place and why you are keeping him from me."

"I'm doing no such thing!" Joe responded, his voice betraying the discomfort he felt.

Laura stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, making a blush begin across his neck. She sighed loudly and picked up her handbag from the kitchen unit behind her.

"You tell him to call me," she said firmly, before stalking elegantly from the kitchen, her heels clicking menacingly as she went.

Joe waited until he heard the front door click shut before he released the breath he'd been holding. He fumbled for his phone and dialled.

-x-

Joe sat beside the roaring fire in his drawing room, a tumbler of fine malt in his left hand. He heard the door click shut and felt a presence enter the room.

"You came," he noted sullenly.

"When you ask, I'll always come," said the soft voice of his long-term right hand man.

"I thought you'd abandoned me for good this time," Joe said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

He heard Graham move behind him, heard the clink of glass and the soft glug as orange juice was poured into fine crystal.

"I very nearly did." Graham admitted softly, "But, you know I couldn't do that. I owe you too much."

Joe closed his eyes softly, a grateful prayer uttered in silence in his mind. To lose Graham now would be catastrophic to his plans. Regardless of it all, he needed him.

He waited until Graham sat opposite him, watched him take a drink from the fine crystal tumbler and grimace at the sour liquid that never hit the spot like a fine malt always could. But, that was the old Graham.

"I had a visitor today," Joe began, not looking across at Graham, but focussing upon the rug on the floor at his feet.

Graham didn't respond, instead gazing at him with his signature unwavering look.

"Laura," Joe clarified, looking up now to meet his friend's gaze.

He had known Graham long enough to spot the subtle changes in the older man's face. He saw now the tense twitch of the muscle in Graham's left cheek. Watched as Graham placed the tumbler carefully upon the table in front him and sat back. He said nothing and Joe knew Graham was trying hard to control his reactions.

"What did she want?" he finally asked, his gaze focussed upon the back of the chair behind Joe's head.

"To find you," Joe explained. "Why, I don't know. She didn't stay long enough, she just said to tell you to call her."

"And, what did you tell her?" Graham asked, his tone hard and Joe knew one wrong word and his friend would completely lose his cool. He'd seen Laura do that to him too many times to count.

"Nothing. You know I wouldn't say anything to her. I said I hadn't seen you."

"And she bought that?" Graham asked, his tone displaying belief that his wife could be so easily fooled.

"I don't think she believed me entirely, but she left without fuss," Joe replied.

"She will be back," Graham stated.

"What will you tell her?" Joe asked, his tone betraying the fear he felt.

Graham's head snapped up and he fixed Joe with a glare, "I won't betray you, if that's what you're afraid of."

"She can't know. She must never find out," Joe said, his eyes pleading, his voice wavering.

Graham grimaced visibly and stood up, draining his glass as he did so, as if it was fine malt, and not mere orange juice. "You have my loyalty and my word," Graham said, his voice menacingly quiet. "I'll sort it."

Graham moved towards the door, "Graham," Joe said, stopping the older man, though he didn't look his way, "Be careful...I don't want to see you in that place again."

Graham didn't speak for some time, instead he stood facing the door, but Joe watched his right hand clench and unclench a few times and could sense the turmoil swirling inside his friend, could feel the anger rolling from him.

"You have my word," Graham finally replied, his voice controlled, before leaving the room and leaving Joe to his thoughts that weren't entirely welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

(As always, mistakes are mine)

Chapter 2

It had been almost a week since Laura, Graham's wife, had shown up in the kitchen of Home Farm and there had been no sight of her since. Joe had not wanted to press the matter with Graham any further, he trusted him and believed him when he said he would deal with it. Joe just wished that sometimes Graham would be less enigmatic and tell him that the matter was resolved. Though, where Laura was concerned, Joe knew from experience that nothing was ever straightforward.

So, it probably shouldn't have come as a shock when she appeared again.

It would have helped if he hadn't had Debbie Dingle in tow.

He'd done as Graham had asked and held out an olive branch to the woman whose life he had pretty much ruined, he'd offered her Jacobs Fold once again and had not been surprised when she had unleashed a torrent of abuse upon him.

It hadn't ended there, she had followed him back to Home Farm, determined that he would listen to what she had to say.

Making a quip about petrol cans as they entered the grand house was, on reflection, not very wise. It had enraged Debbie further and her tirade could no doubt be heard at every point in the house.

Which is why, when entering the kitchen with Debbie still verbally beating him, and once again laying eyes upon a bemused, waiting Laura, Joe wished he'd never thought of coming back here.

The sight of the woman in his kitchen brought Debbie up short and silently cursing, Joe knew that Debbie had not missed the the look that raced across his face and he was certain that she must be able to hear the pounding of his heart.

"Hello, Joe," drawled Laura. She was once again elegantly dressed, her hair tied loosely into a low ponytail over her left shoulder, the long sleek tresses cascading down over her shoulder. She wore a black shirt dress over leggings and long black knee-high boots that elongated her slender legs. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, coffee cup in hand and Joe grimaced at the thought that maybe Lydia had made her a drink and chatted to her. To have the cleaner know anything about this woman was unthinkable.

"Laura," Joe managed to say, his voice sounding surprisingly calm. He felt Debbie shift behind him and he began a desperate thought process of how to damage limit this whole encounter.

For Laura to chat to Lydia was one thing, but for her to say anything to Debbie was simply catastrophic.

"I see you've brought a friend?" Laura stated, her eyes sweeping over Debbie.

"I'm not a friend of his," Debbie spat, aggression and anger emanating from the young woman behind him.

He noted Laura's amused reaction, "Oh, let me guess? A business acquaintance?" Laura asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she contemplated Debbie.

"What do you want, Laura?" Joe demanded, trying to keep her interaction with Debbie to a minimum.

Laura, however clearly had other ideas, she set her cup down and fixed Debbie with a look and Joe tensed as he felt Debbie meet her look for look. This was going to get messy.

"Let me guess, he wined and dined you, promised a business deal of your dreams and then bedded you? After that, it all went sour? Am I right?" Laura asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Is that what happened to you? Thought you'd got a rich man and then he ditched you for a younger model?" Debbie spat back.

Laura laughed delightedly, "In his dreams!" she cried. "No, no, we were never like that, were we, Joe?" Laura took a step closer, "But, I can see he's done you over, but that's what you do, isn't it, Joe?"

"Who the hell is this?" Debbie demanded, glaring angrily at Joe.

"My wife." The voice from the doorway silenced them all, the air falling still as it seemed even the house held its breath. Joe turned back to offer a grateful look, but the expression on Graham's face made his heart skip a beat.

Graham stood inside the kitchen doorway, his features emotionless, though Joe could see the anger lurking beneath the older man's cool exterior.

"Ah! There he is...at last! I was beginning to think I'd have to stay here all night!" Laura said, her voice sarcastic, her face alight with the sheer amusement this whole scene was bringing her. "But where Joe goes, Graham is sure to follow."

"A word," Graham said, his voice low. "Outside."

"Oh, but I'm having fun in here talking to this lovely young lady! We are just starting to get to know each other!" Laura cried, folding her arms and leaning back casually against the kitchen unit, her whole stance a challenge, a dare.

"Now!" Graham roared, making Debbie and Joe jump.

Debbie had certainly never heard the softly spoken butler speak in such a way and it had been a long time since Joe had heard him react like that.

The smile on Laura's face faltered, she inhaled deeply, her mouth pouting sulkily, before pushing off from the kitchen unit and stalking purposefully towards the door and her husband.

As she left the room, Joe caught Graham's eye, silently sending him the message to take care. Graham merely acknowledged the look with a slight nod, before turning and following his wife.

"I had no idea Graham was married," Debbie commented, raising a finely styled eyebrow.

"They're estranged," Joe muttered in response as if that came anywhere close to describing them.

"She's a right mouth," Debbie noted sourly. "Graham seems far too nice for her."

Joe looked back at Debbie and sneered, "You have no idea."

-x-

The hallway was cool and uninviting as Graham followed the wife had not laid eyes on in over 3 years. His irritation was growing rapidly and it was with a heavy heart he had to acknowledge all the old feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him.

As Laura stopped and turned to face him, he found it easier to not meet her eye, but to walk around her, his eyes down as he considered his next move carefully. He hoped he could still remember how to play his wife at her own game.

"Are you not going to say anything?" Laura finally asked, her voice soft like melting chocolate. The tone made Graham look up, it had been too long since he'd heard her speak so softly to him.

"Like what?" Graham managed to utter, determined not to be swept up into Laura's web.

"Oh, I don't know," Laura began, her voice still soft, low, her accent a mere caress. She moved closer, and Graham looked up to meet her gaze, surprised by the tenderness that seemed visible in her eyes. "Maybe that you missed me?"

"Then that would be a lie," Graham managed to reply calmly. He was not going to let her do this, not let her manipulate him with her games.

Laura was certainly not deterred by his words, she stepped closer, an almost sad smile upon her lips. "I missed you," she said softly.

"After the way you left, and the things you said to me, I find that hard to believe," Graham answered, the memory of that day beginning to bloom and grow in his mind like a weed threatening to choke the life from him.

Laura pursed her lips and inhaled sharply, as if his words had hurt her.

"If I remember rightly, you said things too. You left me with no choice."

Graham stepped back slightly, allowing himself much needed space to breathe and gather his tangled thoughts.

"Do you even have any idea what you did? What happened after that?" Graham asked, his voice a low rumble, the words struggling to form in his mouth.

Laura waved a dismissive hand, rolling her eyes in that old way that always made him angry beyond belief. He clenched his right first tightly, desperate to keep a check on his temper. He'd already reacted in somewhat akin to his old manner, and in front of Debbie too, he would need to be more careful.

"Well it appears you've done alright for yourself," Laura stated, gazing around at the grand hallway of Home Farm. There were still boxes that needed unpacking, but as Joe was having the place decorated, they had been left. Even so, the place still looked impressive.

"No thanks to you," Graham snapped.

"All thanks to Joe, yes?" Laura asked, her head tilting slightly to study him, her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Good ole Joe, screw everyone over and then stab them in the back."

"He's been good to me," Graham retorted.

Laura smirked, "Ah, yes. Always good to you, as long as you did his bidding. Tell me, are you still sorting out the messes he always leaves behind?"

"I owe him a lot."

"You owe him nothing!" Laura snapped. "You never did! You just let him walk all over you. I haven't forgotten the things he made you do for him. And what it cost you. And us."

Graham flinched slightly and swallowed hard. "What is it you want from me, Laura?"

Laura stepped closer, she reached out and brushed softly at his shoulder, as if sweeping away imaginary fluff, her hand lingered just a moment too long.

"You're looking good," she said with a smile. "The suit...it suits you. You always did look good in a suit."

"That didn't answer my question," Graham noted, stepping slowly back from her.

"I had a long time to think when I went back to America," Laura said, turning away, running a hand casually along a gilded sideboard still left from the previous owners.

Graham waited, his gaze aimed at the floor, his throat clenching in fear.

Laura turned back, glancing over her shoulder, her sleek hair glinting in the light from the table lamp that resided on the sideboard. The glow cast an ethereal look over her features, making her seem otherworldly. "You know what I want," she said.

Graham swallowed hard, but refused to look at her. His right hand clenched again into a fist as he felt his breathing shallow.

Laura held her gaze on him for another painfully long moment before turning away and walking towards the door leaving Graham alone with only the thundering of his heart in his chest.

-x-

Joe had not really been listening to Debbie, though he was grateful she had at least calmed down and was now going over a contract for Jacobs Fold with a critical eye.

He had been trying to hear the conversation between Graham and Laura in the corridor, but had only made out muffled words. He conceded that the fact it was all quiet had to be a good sign. At least nothing had been thrown, which with knowing their history, was a positive.

The sound of the door closing had him move quickly to the window and he gave a satisfied smirk as he watched Laura walk purposefully from the house. He had no idea where she was going, if she had a car or where she was staying, but at least she was out of his house.

He only wondered how long for.


	3. Chapter 3

The Woolpack was busy as Lydia pushed open the door. Gathering her bag firmly onto her shoulder, she busied her way to the bar and called to Chas her order.

Setting her bag down, she glanced about the pub to see if she knew anyone. At the opposite end of the bar, she noted a new, yet familiar face.

The woman was sitting on a bar stool, a large glass of white wine in front of her and she was scrolling through something on her phone.

"American," Chas whispered conspiratorially as she placed Lydia's drink down, her gaze also fixing upon the unknown woman.

Lydia leaned in closer and whispered back, "I know. She was at Home Farm last week and again yesterday. I think she's a friend of Mr Tate."

"Don't tell me yer cleaning for that snake?" Chas demanded.

Lydia managed to look abashed, "Needs must, Chas."

Chas raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

"Anyway, maybe she isn't his friend," Lydia continued, lowering her voice as she leaned in closer once more. Intrigued, Chas also leaned closer.

"She said her name was Laura Foster," Lydia added.

"Foster?" Chas repeated. "Isn't that the same name as that bloke who works for Joe?"

Lydia raised her eyebrows and nodded, glancing across at Laura. "And Mr Tate was not happy she was there."

"Oh, really?" Chas smirked.

"I'll go over, say hello," Lydia said, gathering her glass and heading down the bar.

As she approached, Laura looked up and set her phone down. She gave Lydia a look that wasn't entirely welcoming.

Undeterred, Lydia greeted her, "Hello again, it's Laura isn't it?"

"It is," Laura answered, her American accent particularly strong. "Lillian?"

"Lydia," the busy cleaner corrected with a smile. "That's a lovely accent, may I ask where it's from?"

Laura seemed to be struggling to keep under checks any irritation and she forced a smile, "America," she said, then paused and clarified, "San Francisco."

"The land of the free," Lydia sighed, "My Steve had always wanted to visit America," she paused for dramatic effect, "now, he never will."

Laura raised an eyebrow though offered no comment. She was not one to be dragged into other people's woes, she preferred all attention on her.

"Anyway, we can't dwell on the past, that's what I always say," Lydia continued breezily.

"Indeed," Laura noted sourly. "So, you work for Joe? How long have you been in his employment?"

"Well, I clean for him, you know, keep the place spick and span. I used to clean for the previous owner, Mr White, God rest his soul," Lydia began. "When I found out Mr Tate had bought the house, I was not best pleased, what with all the trouble and such, but, nobody knows that house like me, and so I decided to continue with my cleaning there. I couldn't tolerate the.."

"I'm sorry, trouble? What trouble?" Laura interrupted, her interest piqued by this information.

Lydia looked around to see if anyone was listening before leaning in, "You know, Mr Tate knocking down the Dingle home and treating Debbie in such a vile way..."

Laura gave a soft smile and nodded, she reached out and patted Lydia's hand, "I think you'd better start at the beginning. I want to know everything."

Lydia looked uncertain, but Laura squeezed her hand, "I might be able to help," she added, concern written across her face. She gave a gentle smile. "I've known Joe a long time. He's not all bad, just ask Graham, my husband."

Lydia let her mouth form into an 'O' shape as she absorbed this information. So, her instincts had been right!

"Now, tell me everything and I'll see what I can do," Laura said sympathetically.

Lydia smiled gratefully and began the tale...

-x-

Joe barely looked up from his antique mahogany desk as Graham entered the room, he was studying a spreadsheet of figures for the new golf course and he wasn't liking what he saw.

Graham moved towards the desk and set down a file that Joe had requested earlier. He remained standing silently, his arms loose by his side.

Joe looked up and raised an eyebrow, "Was there something you needed?" he asked, an arrogant smirk on his face.

Graham gazed back, his expression unreadable. "How did things go with Debbie?" he asked.

Joe set down his pen and leaned back in the leather chair and steepled his fingers together. He smirked, "She was...unreceptive, as I knew she would be."

"But she came up here? She read the contract?" Graham queried, frustration just simmering beneath the surface of his outward exterior.

Joe gave a chuckle, "Yes, she wasted two hours of my time and then ripped up the contract in front of me and made it clear that she would rather die than accept anything from me."

The muscle in Graham's left cheek spasmed slightly and his gaze settled onto an unknown point on the floor.

"That's... disappointing."

Joe huffed and leaned forward in his chair picking up his pen, "Not really. I only did it because you made me."

"Don't sound so petulant. It was the right thing to do. You cannot live here and not at least try and make amends," Graham commented firmly.

"These people don't deserve anything from me," Joe said, his attention back on his spreadsheet. "Don't ask me again. I did what you asked, but that's it."

Graham said nothing, instead, he paused and turned away. Joe waited until he was almost at the door before speaking again. He didn't look up, but he was certainly not focussed on the figures before him as he asked, "I take it the little issue with your wife has been sorted?"

Graham didn't look back, his whole demeanour seemed tense.

"I said I would sort it, and I will."

"I hope so," Joe said curtly, "we cannot afford for any more...issues."

"I know," Graham replied, glancing slightly back at his boss.

"Do what you have to do," Joe added. "I'm counting on you, Graham."

Graham turned away and began walking once more.

"We wouldn't want any skeletons released from any closets now, would we?" Joe finished.

"Certainly not," Graham answered before leaving the room.

-x-

Lydia watched the departing figure of Laura as she excused herself to head to the bathroom. She couldn't help but notice that the conversation so far had been very one sided. Mainly, Lydia telling her everything and Laura giving little information in return. She hoped she hadn't made a mistake in telling the whole sordid story, but then Laura seemed so nice and she had promised she would help. And, Lydia reasoned, she was Mr Foster's wife, what could go wrong by explaining the Dingle's point of view about the whole issue?

As Laura stepped out from the warmth of the pub and into the cooler air of the corridor, she gave a satisfied smile and produced her phone from her pocket.

She quickly typed out a text and headed back to her seat at the bar to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

After sitting at the bar nursing her glass of wine and listening to Lydia drone on, Laura had to concede that he wasn't coming. She tried hard to swallow her annoyance at this fact and tried to look interested in what Lydia was saying. However, her attention kept drifting to the door, hoping each time it opened it would be him.

Finally, she realised she had to accept defeat, finished her wine and left the pub. She had just stepped out into the cool Yorkshire air when she spotted the young woman she had met at Home Farm, the woman who Lydia had informed her was a Debbie Dingle and according to the nosy busy body, had been ill treated by Joe Tate.

The young woman was accompanied by an older woman who looked brash and on a mission.

"Oi, you!" the woman called out, picking up her pace.

The younger woman, Debbie, also picked up her pace, her face set in furious glare.

Laura paused and waited, she folded her arms in a defensive stance. She had faced down uglier and bigger people than these two nobodies.

The older woman was now jabbing a finger towards Laura, her mouth twisted in a furious grimace. "You tell that snake to keep away from my daughter!"

'Ah, the mother,' thought Laura.

"If he knows what's good for him, he'll sling his hook, the weasley little toad," the woman hissed.

"Mum, leave it," Debbie said. "He ain't worth it, none of them are."

"I assume you're referring to Joe?" Laura asked, her voice harsh even to her own ears.

The older woman made a disbelieving noise, glancing around as if looking for an audience, "Of course I'm referring to him!"

"Then your outburst is lost on me, I'm afraid. I have nothing to do with him," Laura answered evenly.

"What the hell was that all about at Home Farm anyway?" Debbie suddenly demanded.

"Like you, I also have some unfinished business," Laura answered, her voice calm and cool compared to the two riled women before her.

"You know nothin' about me," Debbie spat.

"Nor you about me," reasoned Laura. She stepped closer, "But I know one thing, Joe Tate is indeed, a weasel."

"That's putting it mildly! His father was just as bad, to think that snake used to be my stepson!" the older woman practically shrieked, her eyes taking on an almost wild animalistic flair.

Laura paused and frowned slightly, "Stepson? Wait, you're...Charity? Charity Tate?"

"Yeah? So? What of it?" Charity demanded, the wild look still raging across her face.

Laura gave a delighted laugh, "And...Debbie is your daughter? And...Debbie you and Joe were...?"

Laura glanced between the two women, Debbie now looked uncomfortable whilst Charity was still raging.

"This just gets better!" Laura crowed delightedly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charity demanded.

"Mum, leave it," Debbie said, her gaze never leaving Laura's. Something about her was beginning to scare her.

"No, Babe, I wanna know what this is all about," Charity answered, her voice rising several notches.

"And, he had your family home knocked down? Right?" Laura asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"For someone who claims to have nothing to do with him, you know an awful lot!" Charity spat.

"She's only Graham's wife, I doubt she knows owt," Debbie said.

Laura smirked, a retort forming on her lips but Charity got there first.

"Don't get me started on him, playing me along at a fancy 'otel with champagne!"

Laura bristled in annoyance, this was tedious, she would set these two straight and wipe the floor with them whilst she was at it.

Opening her mouth, the words began forming when a sleek, black car slowed to a stop outside the pub. Engine purring, the driver's window slid silently down revealing Graham's profile as he stared ahead at the road.

"Get in," he said, his voice low as he addressed his wife.

Laura gave the two women a final look before she began walking towards the car, her head held high.

"Oh, look, the dogsbody himself!" Charity jeered.

Graham gave no acknowledgement.

"That's right, run off back to little Lord Fauntleroy!" Charity called as Laura reached the passenger door.

Looking across at them, she called to out, "If you want my opinion, this whole thing, well, it's history repeating, that's all I can say."

Graham muttered something angrily and Laura gave a smirk before opening the passenger door and getting in.

Graham wound up the window and the car moved away before Laura's parting words had time to sink into Debbie and Charity's minds.


	5. Chapter 5

They rode in silence, Laura gazing at the passing countryside, her mind lost miles away to another time, years ago, the embarrassment and hurt still as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

She only came back into the moment as the car came to a gentle stop.

Graham switched the engine off but kept his hands on the wheel, steeling himself and trying to keep the ghosts of the past at bay.

The car felt claustrophobic, the soft scent of Laura's perfume filling every corner, clinging to him, bringing too many memories flooding back.

Laura looked around at their surroundings. They were high up in the hills, parked at the edge of what appeared to be a disused quarry.

She felt her heart flutter in panic, though she kept her face as impassive as possible. She turned to look at her husband and managed to offer a smirk she knew would annoy him. She'd always known how to press his buttons.

"What's this?" she asked, "Are you going to hit me over the head and throw me into there?" She nodded towards the steep sides of the quarry. "Leave me out here to die?"

Graham didn't look at her but his hands slowly slid from the wheel.

"No," he replied gruffly. "Though God knows maybe I should."

"It wouldn't be the first time you'd done something like that," Laura noted. "If someone is going to kill me, I'd rather it was you."

Graham turned his head slowly, his eyes narrow, his jaw set firmly.

"You shouldn't talk like that," he said.

Laura shrugged and looked away, a silence falling between them.

Finally, she heard Graham move beside her and turned to look at him once more. He pulled a crisp white envelope from the inside pocket of his suit. He held it out to her.

"I think this is what you're after," he said, his face expressionless.

Laura took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a cheque for £250,000. Laura gave no reaction, but folded the cheque away and placed the envelope into her bag.

"Well, I assume that's courtesy of Joe, I just hope you don't end up paying the ultimate price in return," Laura commented.

"What will you do?" Graham asked, ignoring the dig.

Laura sighed and looked once more out of the passenger window. "Return to the US. As I'm sure you appreciate, I can't get a VISA for anything other than a 21 day visit."

Graham flinched slightly, the memory threatening to bloom inside the car. "It's probably for the best."

"I'm hoping to set up a little business, or concentrate on getting a house of my own. I can't live out of my sister's attic all my life," Laura added, the bitterness evident in her voice.

Graham grimaced, "How is Dawn?"

Laura laughed harshly, "She's fine, thinks I've lost my mind by coming back here."

"I heard about your father," Graham said softly. "I'm sorry, he was a good man."

"Mom always said the job would get him in the end," Laura's voice wavered slightly as she recalled her father's death in the line of duty. Sheriff for 23 years, he had been closing in on retirement when he had been shot dead at point blank range by a deranged man.

"I'm sorry," Graham repeated.

They sat once more in silence. Finally, Graham moved again and produced a larger envelope and held it out to her.

"What's this?" Laura asked, taking the envelope suspiciously.

"Divorce papers," Graham answered, his tone hardened once more. "I thought it was time."

Laura looked at him, "On what grounds?"

"Don't worry, I've taken full responsibility." Graham said, looking out of the windscreen.

"Oh, how good of you," Laura sneered, anger rising. "However did you fit all your crimes into such a tiny box?"

"Don't make this anymore difficult than it needs to be," Graham said, turning his face away.

"I'm making it difficult?" Laura scoffed, her eyes prickling with angry tears. "Why now?"

"It seemed right," Graham said. "We haven't seen each other in 3 years, you can hardly call us married."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Laura said, her voice losing her usual slow drawl and taking on an urgent element. "You could come back with me. We could buy that house we always talked about."

Graham offered a small sad smile, "We would only make each other unhappy. We always hurt each other in the end."

"We were happy," Laura reasoned.

"Once. Maybe."

"Before Joe," Laura spat. Suddenly, her words tumbled out of her mouth as she leaned closer to him, "Do you still love me? I still love you, I know...I know I haven't always shown it or been the best wife, but I still love you, I always will."

"Laura," Graham sighed, looking down at his hands as they rested in his lap.

Cutting him off, she asked again, "Do you still love me?"

Graham didn't answer, he couldn't. He looked away, "I can't give you what you want."

"Because of Joe?" Laura demanded.

"I owe him," Graham answered. "He was there when I was at my lowest. He saved me from myself. And, despite what he says, he needs me too."

"And what about me? Where were you when I needed you?" Laura snapped angrily. "So drunk you couldn't even remember your name. All because of him!"

"You made wrong decisions, Laura. You caused all of it!"

"You had me arrested and deported! My own husband! Do you even know how humiliating that was? Begging the authorities to listen to me, believing that you would come and sort everything out, only to be then told by some patronising solicitor, that it was my husband who had been the one to report me, do you have any idea how that felt?"

"It's wasn't like that," Graham said firmly.

"So, you didn't call immigration?" Laura snapped angrily. "And I suppose my VISA paperwork went missing purely by accident?"

Graham didn't answer. Laura stared hard at him before sinking back into the luxurious leather seat, realisation dawning.

"It wasn't you...it was him," she said slowly.

"Laura," Graham began.

"It was him! Wasn't it? He did it and you let him?" Laura demanded.

"It wasn't like that, it wasn't meant to be that way." Graham sighed. "If you'd just kept out of it all, none of it would have happened."

"And if you had cared enough about me, put me first, just once, then none of it would have happened! Drink and Joe, Joe and Drink, that's all you ever cared about!" Laura snapped.

"I didn't know they would arrest you," Graham tried to reason.

"You didn't do anything, you let them haul me away and you did nothing!" Laura cried, her voice rising several octaves.

"I was angry," Graham replied, his tone even but firm. "You destroyed a huge deal, you almost bankrupted the company!"

"You are unbelievable," Laura spat. She fumbled angrily with her seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Graham asked, his voice displaying tedium at her histrionics.

"I can't stand to be anywhere near you!" she hissed, her fingers pulling frantically at the door handle, it clicked open letting in a gust of harsh cold air.

"Don't be ridiculous. We are miles away from anywhere," Graham said, his hands moving back to the steering wheel as Laura got out of the car. "Get back in."

Laura leaned back into the car, "I'd rather walk back to America!" she spat, her hair blowing about her face in the wind. She slammed the door and began to stalk away, struggling in her heels on the rough ground.

Sighing, Graham got out of the car and called out into the roaring wind, "Laura, get back in the car."

"Go to hell!" she yelled back.

Graham set off after her, quickly catching her up as she struggled on the uneven ground. He grabbed her arm, pulling her around. She tried to pull away but he held fast, tugging her towards him. As she stumbled into him, he wrapped both arms around her, dragging her back towards the car. Laura resisted, her body twisting, her feet scraping on the ground, but Graham was stronger, his face set in a determined expression.

"Get off! I mean it!" Laura yelled in frustration as he wrestled her towards the car.

"I'm doing this for your own good," he answered calmly, pushing her firmly against the side of the car.

"What're you going to do? Hit me? It wouldn't be the first time! Bundle me into the trunk? Kill me?" Laura hissed, her face wild with anger and something close to fear. "Like you did to Zoe Tate?"

Her words hit Graham like a slap to the face and he recoiled back in shock, allowing Laura the opportunity to wriggle free and put some space between them.

"That's right, I know all about that. Not so careful as you thought!" she said triumphantly. "I'm going to make him pay for what he did."

Graham's face distorted angrily and he lunged for her again as Laura began staggering backwards away from him, "You..."

A loud beeping horn made them both stop as a lorry slowed to a halt, the driver leaned out of his window, his eyes moving between Laura and Graham.

"You alright, love? This man bothering you?" the driver asked, concern written across his face.

"Can you give me a lift?" Laura pleaded, staggering towards the lorry. She threw a terrified look at Graham.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere, just get me out of here!" Laura begged. Graham gave an involuntary growl of frustration. Laura was always a brilliant actress.

"Get in," the driver said.

Laura cast another look back at Graham, her face slipping momentarily into a triumphant smirk before schooling her features and staggering around the lorry and climbing in to the passenger side.

"Laura!" Graham shouted.

"I think you need to back off, pal and leave her be!"

Graham scowled angrily at the back of the wagon as it set off down the road.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled.

"She knows," he said as the phone was answered.


	6. Chapter 6

Debbie walked out of the garage as the lorry came to a halt outside. She watched as the woman, Laura?, got out of the passenger side.

"Are you sure you're alright, love?" the driver asked after winding down the window.

"I thank you, but I'm fine now," Laura replied, offering him a sweet smile. "Thank you, you saved me."

"Maybe you should call the police?" the driver asked.

Laura shook her head, "No need, but thank you for your kindness."

The driver gave her a final appreciative look before driving off.

"Oi!" Debbie shouted, folding her arms over her thick quilted jacket and coming to a standstill a short distance from Laura.

"Hello again," Laura said, her voice a sarcastic drawl, any previous concerns about her safety seemingly vanished.

"What was that about?" Debbie asked, nodding towards the disappearing wagon.

"Oh, nothing," Laura replied enigmatically.

"What did you mean earlier? Yer know, about this being history repeating itself?" Debbie demanded. "If you know summat..."

"You'll what? Hit me? Call the police?" Laura answered, her voice a sarcastic drawl. "Darling, there's little you can do to me now, I think I'm, as you Brits call it, 'at rock bottom'."

Laura moved closer, her face twisting into a frown, "Your family home, the one Joe destroyed, is it still there or..."

"It's partly standing, what of it?"

"Can I see it?" Laura asked.

"Why?" Debbie asked suspiciously.

"Please, indulge me."

Debbie looked thoughtful for a moment, before gesticulating to a nearby car. She brought the keys out of her pocket and unlocked it.

"Get in."

Coming out of the cafe, Ross stopped, mid-bite of his bacon sandwich and watched as Laura and Debbie got into a car and drove off.

He quickly pulled the keys to Joe Tate's car out of his pocket, running towards the parked car. Stuffing the sandwich onto the seat, he set off after them with a screech of tyres.

-x-

Debbie switched off the engine as she pulled into the yard of what was left of Wishing Well cottage and looked across at Laura.

Her face was unreadable as she got out of the car and took a few steps, gazing around at the sight before her.

Debbie got out of the car and followed her, watching Laura carefully.

"Oh, yes...this is...familiar," Laura drawled, her eyes sweeping across the landscape before her.

Debbie was about to speak, when behind them, a car horn beeped. They both turned to see one of Joe Tate's cars slow to a halt. The window slid down to reveal Ross grinning back at them.

"What do you want?" Debbie demanded, folding her arms.

"Rude!" Ross answered. "Can't a man stop to say hello to two lovely ladies?"

"A man can, but I can't see any around here," Debbie quipped, scowling at Ross.

Ross gasped in feigned horror and clutched one hand to his heart, "Sometimes Debbie, your words, they hurt!"

"Oh, shut up!" Debbie snapped rolling her eyes.

"'Ere, does your husband know yer cavorting around up 'ere with 'er?" Ross addressed Laura.

Laura raised an elegant eyebrow, "Who is this man?" she asked Debbie.

"Ross Barton, at yer service Ma'am" he replied in a dreadful American accent. "Mr Tate's newest, and even if I say it myself, best driver!"

"Idiot," Debbie muttered.

"I'll give Mr Tate yer best shall I?" Ross asked, "And you, Miss America, I'll tell Mr Tall, Dark and Brooding, 'is dinner'll be ready at 6, yeah?"

"I cannot understand a word this man is saying," Laura said haughtily.

Debbie rolled her eyes, "Get lost, Ross!"

Ross gave a cheeky grin and cast an appreciative eye over Laura. He whistled leeringly before roaring off down the road.

Debbie made an annoyed noise, "Absolute idiot," she said.

"Aren't all men?" Laura asked, turning her head to look at Debbie.

"Even Graham?" Debbie pressed, her expression darkening slightly.

Laura looked away, "Even Graham."

A silence fell between them, the wind tousling their hair until finally, Laura spoke.

"I said this is like history repeating and it is."

"In what way?"

"The Grange, Holbeck in Leeds. Look it up. You'll find some of the answers you're looking for," Laura replied and began to walk away. "That's all I can say."

-x-

Ross pulled up outside Home Farm and whistled a tune as he got out of the car. He strutted across the gravel and cast a glance at the Bentley parked up. It was splattered all along the side with sandy coloured mud. He made an annoyed noise between his teeth and tongue and continued in his stride towards the House.

Opening the door he quipped loudly, "Honey, I'm home!"

He glanced into the office and spotted Joe sat at his desk whilst Graham stood by the window, coffee cup in his hand.

Ross dangled the car keys out in front of him, "One car, spotless and full of fuel," he announced proudly.

"Thank you, Ross, nice to see your professionalism is still at its peak," Joe said, not looking up from his computer, but an eyebrow lifting.

"Professionalism personified. That's me!" Ross said, tapping his chest. "'Ere, what the hell's 'appened to the Bentley? I cleaned that yesterday and it's covered in mud!"

"I had an errand to run," Graham deadpanned from his location by the window.

"What? Doing doughnuts in a mud field?" Ross quipped with a scowl. When Graham made no reply, he gave his head a little disbelieving shake.

"Maybe you can get it washed again?" Joe suggested, not looking up from his computer.

"No rest for the wicked," Ross sighed dramatically. "Got the keys?"

Graham turned and tossed them across the room making Ross lunge to catch them.

"Oh, yeah," Ross began, nodding at Graham. "How come I've just seen your missus up at Wishing Well cottage with Debbie?"

Joe paused and slowly looked up at Ross. Behind him he heard Graham move nearer. Heard the clink of china as he set down his cup.

"I have no idea," Graham answered, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Looked proper pally with her, she did." Ross continued, watching Graham carefully. He noticed the involuntary twitch in the man's cheek.

Joe sat back in his chair, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"May I just say, she is one hot piece," Ross continued, "yer wife I mean," he clarified and shook his head and gave an appreciative whistle. He pointed a finger at Graham, "You, my friend, are one lucky man!"

Joe tried to hide his amusement at the conversation, he tried to frown contemplatively, but the smirk kept pulling at his mouth. He could sense Graham bristle behind him, feel the irritation rolling off the older man towards the idiot in front of them. If Ross had noticed, he was paying it no attention,

"I mean," he continued, "I would not be letting her loose around 'ere if I wer' you, there are some men in that village who'd kill for a bit of skirt like that!"

Joe couldn't help himself, "Men like you, maybe?"

Ross attempted to look affronted, "Me? Nah, boss. Nicking another man's bird ain't my style," he paused, "not anymore anyway. Nah, that's are Pete's thing. I'm just saying, Mr Broodin 'ere, oughta watch out, keep her on a tight rope if yer get me drift? 'specially round the likes of those Dingles."

"I'll take it on advice," Graham gritted out.

Joe tried to swallow back his amusement, something told him he should get rid of Ross soon before Graham ripped his head clean off his shoulders.

"Thank you, Ross," he said quickly, offering an amused smile. "If you could go and sort the car?"

Ross gave a cheeky salute, "Aye, aye, Captain!"

He tossed the keys into the air and caught them before striding out of the room whistling cheerily.

Joe turned to Graham, an arrogant look on his face.

"So, what is she up to?"

Graham turned away, his face darkening, "I don't know."

"What shall we do?" Joe asked. "We can't let her get close to Debbie."

"We do nothing," Graham said, facing the window again.

"Really? I'm not sure that's wise," Joe replied. He thought for a moment. "I could call my friend in immigration again?"

"No," Graham snapped. He looked back at Joe. "No immigration."

"Shame," Joe smirked. "I did enjoy watching her kicking and screaming her way into a police van the last time. It was...cathartic."

Graham turned, his face dark and threatening, "You should learn when to stop," he growled.

Joe had the decency to attempt contrition, "I'm sorry, that was...low of me," he said. Leaning back and folding his hand, he allowed a few moments of silence to pass by. "I take it you have a plan? At least, I hope you do."

"We do nothing. She only has a short visa, she will be leaving soon. I'll speak to her again, keep her quiet." Graham was facing the window once more.

"And if she won't keep quiet?"

"She will," Graham insisted, glancing back at Joe.

Joe turned back to his laptop, "She's your wife, you know her better than me. But, Graham," he looked up, his face darkening, "if she so much as breathes out of line, you know what you must do."

Graham made no acknowledgment but turned away once more.

-x-

Ross swaggered merrily out towards the Bentley and shook his head at the state of the car. He got into the drivers side and began pulling on his seatbelt. His hand had just moved to the ignition when he caught sight of something in the passenger footwell.

Looking up at the house to check nobody was watching, he leaned over and picked up the female handbag.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked the car quietly.

Checking the house again, he rummaged through the contents, pulling out an American passport. He pulled out a purse and mobile phone before his hand landed on the two envelopes in the front of the bag.

Opening the larger one, he whistled as he realised they were divorce papers. Seems the Foster marriage was on the rocks. He opened the smaller one and felt his eyes widen.

"What the?" he muttered as he cast his eyes over the cheque. "Well, well."

Stuffing everything back into the bag, he set the car in drive and roared off.

-x-

"Babe, what are we looking for?" Charity whined, sitting back against her seat at the dining room table in the back room of the bar.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be looking would I?" Debbie irritatedly replied, scanning through the pages of websites relating to "The Grange" All mentions of this place in Leeds seemed to be from years ago, nothing recent and nothing that would be of any use to Debbie.

"Has it occurred to yer that Princess America was spinning yer a yarn? Why'd she wanna help you anyway? Stuck up Mare..." Charity said, her voice laced with sarcasm and boredom.

"Jealous, mother?" Debbie asked, clicking on a new link.

"Me? Jealous? Of her? Yeah, right!" Charity scoffed, the high pitch to her voice betraying her true thoughts. She rolled her eyes, "OK so she's got hair to die for and her complexion is lovely, so creamy!" She sighed and then grimaced, "American cow."

Debbie shook her head and continued scrolling just as the door opened and Ross sauntered in.

"Oh, what do you want?" Charity groaned.

"Er, a bit of respect, actually!" Ross replied indignantly.

"Yeah, well yer in the wrong place!" Charity retorted with a sneer.

"I've got something I think you may be interested in," he said, dropping Laura's bag onto the table.

Debbie and Charity stared at the bag and then at Ross.

"I'd like to say something positive here, but I don't think it's your colour," Charity quipped.

Ross screwed up his face and sneered, "Ha! Ha!" He gesticulated at the bag, "That's Miss America's bag."

"Where'd yer get that?" Debbie demanded.

"I didn't nick it! Found it, didn't I? In the footwell of Joe's car. She must have left it there after a little...Well, who knows what with Mr Broodin'?" Ross explained. "There's a cheque in there from Joe Tate for 250,000 smack-a-roos! Big bucks! He's defo hidin summat and tryna keep 'er quiet."

"£250,000?" Charity gasped.

"And some divorce papers. Looks like good old Graham is filing for divorce. What a loser," Ross added. "As if you'd divorce that hot piece of skirt!"

"Scuse me," Debbie said indignantly, tapping her finger onto the desk in annoyance. "Skirt?"

Ross rolled his eyes dramatically, "Alright, lady," he corrected.

"Can we stick to the point here, why is Joe paying the butler's wife £250,000? What is he so afraid of that he feels he has to pay her that amount? What does she have on him?" Charity pondered.

Debbie paused, her eyes re-reading the opening lines of the article. "This," she said.

Ross and Charity crowded around her and read.

"No way!" Charity gasped.

"As if," Ross added.

"She was right. This ain't the first time. He's done it before," Debbie said angrily.

"Wait, wait, go back, what's that?" Charity demanded pointing at the screen.

Debbie scrolled up and stopped.

"Compulsory purchase order of 23 The Grange. Current status: Occupied. Resident: Mr and Mrs G Foster."

"He bought their house?" Ross asked.

"Looks like it...Wait, hang on."

"Compulsory order agreement signed by: Graham Foster (son)."

"His parents house? He sold his parents house?" Charity looked between Debbie and Ross.

Debbie scowled, "To Tate Enterprises."

Ross pointed at the following line, "Looks like Mr Broodin's parents weren't happy about it either."

"Demolition date: TBC, current residents refusing to leave."

"Well, this just gets better and better," Charity quipped.


	7. Chapter 7

Ross arrived back at Home Farm, parked up the now gleaming Bentley, grabbed the handbag and swinging it merrily, strode towards the door.

Entering the grand hallway, he encountered Graham as he left the kitchen. He paused and gazed across at Ross, his eyes betraying the mistrust he had of the younger man.

"One gleaming car, returned," Ross announced with a cheeky finger click and point at Graham. "Now, don't you be doing anymore dirt track racing in it, those cars are not built for that!"

Graham's face gave nothing away, instead he turned as if to walk away.

"Oh, and whilst I remember," Ross added, pulling the handbag from behind his bag. He held it out towards Graham, "Found this in the footwell, I'm assuming it ain't yours," he held it up higher to study it. "Though...I reckon the colour would suit you, bring out your eyes," he smirked.

Graham strode towards him, disdain written across his face. He snatched the bag out of Ross' grip and turned away.

"You're welcome!" Ross snapped, rolling his eyes.

Graham paused and half glanced back, "Thank you," he muttered before disappearing into one of the back rooms.

Ross shook his head, the cheek of that bloke. "Loser," he commented under his breath.

-x-

Graham placed the bag onto his desk and began carefully removing items from each of the compartments. In the drama of his last encounter with his wife, he'd completely forgotten about her bag. He thought it odd that she hadn't been back to collect it, but then he'd long given up trying to understand his wife.

He took out the two envelopes and placed the smaller one back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He removed her purse, opening it to see what she had. Inside all her cards remained in their place, which meant wherever she was, she had no money. He counted her money, a few dollars and £23.45 exactly. Her driving license was in one of the pockets along with her medical health card.

Placing the purse down, he removed her passport from the bag, quickly followed by her phone.

He pressed the home button and the screen lit up with a background image of a baby girl sitting awkwardly clutching at a soft giraffe toy, big eyes gazed back along with a toothy grin. From the mass of auburn curls on the girl's head and the deep green eyes, he assumed the child must be Dawn's little girl.

Over the image flashed up the message received sign. Several text messages had been received and unanswered. All from Dawn, increasingly frantic as she had failed to hear back from her sister.

He placed the phone down and looked inside the bag again. A few other items remained, tissues, a lipstick, small bottle of Chanel, and then a small white box.

Picking up the box, it rattled with the sound of pills and he turned it over, knowing exactly what they were. The label stared accusingly back.

Mrs L Foster

Take one tablet 3x a day.

Something inside him made him feel sick, a clenching fear that took him by surprise. Wherever she was, she had nothing, including the tablets that would keep her heart condition at bay. Without them, she would soon become extremely unwell. She didn't even have her phone to call for help.

His mind threw up the unhelpful memory of the time when her heart condition first manifested itself. She had collapsed at home, unable to breathe, her heart tripping itself up to keep beating regularly.

Where was he when this happened? In the pub. Steaming drunk.

He recalled the frantic voicemails his mother had left him as she had watched the paramedics try to save his wife.

When he realised what had happened, he had rushed to the hospital, stinking of booze and had been greeted by his parents furious glares. Seeing Laura attached to machines, looking deathly pale, he had vowed then and there to stop drinking.

For a time he did...

This was unhelpful, he shoved the thought angrily aside and clutched the packet of tablets tightly. He had to find her and fast.

He grabbed everything off the table and stuffed them haphazardly back into the bag and set off for the door.

He had to find her and he had a good idea where she might be.

Did he have the stomach for it? That was a question he didn't have the answer to.

-x-

Debbie stared at her laptop screen and sighed. She took a sip of her white wine and refreshed the page.

She had read everything about The Grange. It was obviously no longer there, making way for a huge corporate development. Expensive apartments, fancy wine bars and restaurants, the once residential area was now an unrecognisable hub of business.

She knew now that The Grange had once been home to the Foster's but aside from the fact that Joe Tate seemed to enjoy demolishing residential areas, she could find little to help her in her vendetta against him. She had found some images of The Grange prior to demolition and it had appeared to be a completely run-down dive of an area. It certainly didn't match the current image that Laura or Graham exuded. It didn't look a place of fancy cars, designer suits and expensive perfumes. It looked like a dump.

So, why was Laura so bothered about it? And how did that help Debbie?

Setting her class down, she swallowed the mouthful of wine and on impulse typed, "Laura Foster" into the search engine.

Millions of results flooded up, Debbie scrolled but there were just thousands of links to various social media sites and people with the same name.

She tried again, this time adding the extra words, "Holbeck, Leeds" to the search.

Again, many links to various sites, but nothing stood out until she almost reached the bottom of page 1.

"Business man's wife arrested and deported..." read the opening line. Debbie shifted in her seat and clicked the link.

"...Laura Foster, aged 38, was arrested at the home of her businessman husband following a disturbance. The woman, who originates from San Francisco, was found to have inaccurate paperwork in relation to her right to reside in the U.K..."

As she finished reading, she sat back in her seat and inhaled deeply. Beneath the articles, the newspaper had helpfully offered links to other pages relating to the story.

Debbie read them all.

Shutting down her laptop, she gulped more wine. The story thickened and Debbie wondered (not for the first time) just what she had got herself involved in.

-x-

"Where are you going?" Joe asked, surprised to see Graham heading out of the front door, car keys and what looked to be a woman's handbag in his hand.

Graham paused but didn't meet Joe's eye. "Out," he answered enigmatically.

"And are you going to tell me where?" Joe pressed, amused at Graham's shifty actions.

Graham turned round and with a tightly set jaw, said, "To see Laura."

Joe felt his stomach uncomfortably twist and he shifted on the spot. "Oh? For what reason?"

Graham looked down at the bag hanging by his left side and with his free hand pulled out the box of pills from his trouser pocket.

"She needs these," he answered.

Joe pressed his lips together to form a pout and he looked pensive for a moment. Finally, he raised an eyebrow and said, "You know, you could throw those away, let nature takes its course and all of the problems will disappear."

Graham raised his eyes to meet Joe's, his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek gave a slight twitch and Joe regretted his words.

Graham's mouth barely moved as he snarled, "You can't be serious."

Joe looked contrite, "No, forgive me. That was completely out of order."

"It was," Graham growled. "She needs them."

Joe nodded, "Do you know where she is? She probably has spares."

Graham looked away, "All her money, her phone, everything, is in this bag. She hasn't come for it."

"You think something has happened to her?" Joe asked, his throat tightening. It was one thing to want rid of her, but if something had happened after being in the village for only a few days would not look good.

"I hope not," Graham replied. He turned and headed out of the door.

"Graham," Joe called. Graham stopped and turned back to face him. "Don't be long."

The air was cold, a clear moon shone, illuminating the gravel drive and gardens with an eerie blue glow.

Graham was almost at the car when he heard gravel crunching slowly, he turned, staring hard to see who was there. The crunching gravel stopped, then started again, as if the culprit was struggling to walk.

His eyes finally made out a dark figure, some distance away, staggering on the uneven ground.

"Laura?" he called, watching the figure stumble forward. He set off at a run, reaching her before she fell, wrapping his arms around her to hold her up.

"Graham?" she panted, her voice a croak. Her breathing was hard and raspy, she slumped into his hold, "My...tab...let's," she gasped.

"I've got you," he said softly, "let's get you inside."

"Tab...need them," she croaked.

He held her up, half carrying, half dragging her towards the House. She only made a few steps before her legs gave out completely and she became a dead weight.

Graham scooped her effortlessly up and carried her the rest of the way, shouting for Joe as he did.

Joe, hearing the shouting, opened the door as Graham staggered through the door, the prone figure of Laura in his arms. Her head was lolling about against his shoulder her skin a frightening grey.

"What happened?" Joe demanded, horrified at the turn of events.

Graham was already halfway into the drawing room, "I told you she needs those tablets."

"Where are they?" Joe demanded, fear that this woman would die in his house, pounding angrily through his veins.

"I think it's too late for that," Graham said, laying Laura down onto the sofa. "Call an ambulance."

Laura rolled onto her side, half hanging over the edge of the sofa and began coughing violently, "No!" she gasped, "Tab...tablets,"

Joe looked to Graham but was unnerved to see the uncertainty on his face. Graham pulled the tablets out of his pocket, Joe noticed the shaking of his hands.

"Are you sure?" he asked Laura.

She nodded and coughed violently again, one hand clawing at her chest. "One," she croaked.

"I'll get water," Joe said, terrified at feeling of being so out of his depth in his own home.

Returning with the glass, he held it out to Graham who handed it to Laura along with one tablet. Her hands shook as she placed the tablet into her mouth and gulped the water. She handed the glass back to Graham and coughed again.

"Just breathe," he commanded in a low voice.

She laid back against the cushions, her breathing laboured. She took a deep shaking breath in and out. After a few minutes passed, Laura's colour began to return to her cheeks and her breathing began to steady to a normal rate.

"Rest," Graham ordered, happy that she seemed to be recovering. He stood up from kneeling at her side and moved towards Joe whose face still displayed discomfort at the turn of events.

"I think she will be alright," he muttered lowly to Joe.

"Good," Joe hissed back, "I can't have her staying here long."

Graham's face darkened, "She can't leave yet. She needs to rest, needs time for her heart to settle down."

"She needs to do that elsewhere," Joe hissed back, eyes darting towards Laura. She was laid down, eyes closed, clutching her tablets to her chest.

"And exactly what do you want to do? Throw her out into the cold air? Another attack will most likely cause a heart attack," Graham snapped angrily, looking back to check Laura was not listening. "She needs to rest."

"On my sofa?" Joe demanded.

"Well I could put her out into one of the outbuildings? Let her freeze to death? Or perhaps the cellar?" Graham deadpanned.

"Don't tempt me," Joe sulked.

"I know you're talking about me," Laura's voice drifted in from the drawing room.

Graham and Joe turned together to look at her as she struggled into a sitting position, her hair in disarray. She leaned forward, resting her head onto her hands as they balanced on her knees. She remained like that for a moment, before lifting her head, "I'll go," she said and attempted to stand, wobbling as she did.

Graham cast a glance at Joe before moving quickly back into the room to her side. He pushed her gently back down and she gave no resistance.

"You're going nowhere tonight," he said in a low voice. He looked up at Joe, who defiantly met his gaze before sighing and rolling his eyes. He stepped back into the room.

"Stay," he said, though his tone was anything but welcoming. "Just for tonight."

He turned and stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Graham looked at Laura, "Do you need anything?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I'm fine...thank you."

"I think we need to talk," he said.

Laura looked at him, her face open and honest for once and she nodded, "I think we do."

The door clicked open again and Joe appeared, holding Laura's bag out. "You probably need this," he said petulantly. He walked closer and handed it to Laura. She offered a wan smile.

"Thank you."

She opened up the bag and retrieved her phone, groaning at the messages. She gently waved the phone at Graham, "I should probably call Dawn, she'll be worried."

Graham nodded, "I'll leave you alone," he said, getting to his feet and walking to the door.

He stopped and glanced back, his face emotionless as he watched his wife tap on her phone and lift it to her ear.

He silently left the room as Laura answered her sister's obvious immediate demands of where she had been.

Joe was waiting in the kitchen, his face a petulant scowl.

"How is Cruella?" he asked.

Graham gave him an unreadable look and moved to the coffee machine. He poured himself a coffee and turned back.

"She's talking to her sister," he said.

"Plotting her next move no doubt," Joe sniffed.

Graham slammed down his mug, "Not everyone thinks and acts like you," he growled.

"Oh, come on, Graham! You know what she's like!" Joe cried in exasperation. "Has age muddled your brain so much that you've forgotten?"

"I remember," Graham said lowly. He glared at Joe, "And I remember that it wasn't all her fault."

Joe moved towards the coffee machine and poured himself a cup. He turned round and shrugged, "She changed you. You," he pointed at him, "are different again now she's back."

"Don't be so ridiculous" Graham growled.

"You've lost your edge," Joe continued. "You've gone soft."

"Maybe I've seen the error of my ways," Graham replied.

"I'm warning you, don't let her get to you," Joe said, his voice hard and edgy.

"Or what? The way I see it, I hold the cards." Graham glowered at him before turning away and leaving the room.

-x-

Laura woke with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. She glanced around quickly, her bag and phone were still on the table, the pills tossed carelessly next to her water.

As her sleep hazed mind cleared, she recalled the events of the evening and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. She groaned as her chest pulled tightly, a sharp pain ricocheted through her side making her gasp.

"You're awake then," a voice said.

Laura turned to see Joe sitting behind her in an armchair, nursing a glass of malt. He swirled the liquid and cast her an arrogant gaze.

She sighed, pushing away the pain and with shaking hands, tried to bring order to her unruly hair.

"Where's Graham," she asked, her voice rough.

Joe gave a low laugh, "Where's Graham?" he mimicked. "Do you realise how pathetic you sound? And look."

"Go to hell," Laura hissed, pushing herself up onto shaking legs. Something was wrong, she could feel it, but she was determined to never let him know that.

"One day," Joe said, swigging a large gulp of malt. "And when I get there, I'll expect you to give me a welcome party. Roll out the red carpet so to speak."

"Where is he?" Laura asked again, desperate for Graham to return. Everything would be better if he was here. Her chest constricted painfully again and she could feel her heart trip and jump over regular beats.

"Busy. Running around after you. As per usual. Gone to fetch you some things." Joe's gaze was hard and angry.

Laura looked about, disorientation making her mind and vision hazy. She reached for the arm of the sofa to steady herself. Her head swam and the room span. Closing her eyes, she paused a moment.

"Don't for a moment think I'm happy about you being here, but what's the age old phrase? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Joe continued, ignoring the staggering woman in front of him.

"I'm not staying," Laura said, she reached for her bag, but gasped at the shooting pain in her chest. She turned away, bracing herself against the sofa before summoning all her energy to force herself to stand upright.

"No, you're not, Joe agreed. "You're going to pack up your mind games and take the money, sign the divorce papers and leave, never to come back," Joe said, an arrogant smirk on his face.

"Or what?" Laura demanded, pleased she could at least sound commanding, even if she didn't feel it.

"Don't make this awkward, Laura," Joe sighed, as if bored by the whole scenario.

"He would come with me, if I really asked," Laura retorted defiantly.

"Don't flatter yourself. His life is here," Joe laughed.

"Oh yes, with you, his great saviour and protector!"

"I did save him. Saved him from a drunken existence, going nowhere. What exactly did you do for him?" Joe raised an amused eyebrow.

"At what cost? What price has Graham paid in order to thank you for your...assistance?" Laura managed to grit out. Her head swam slightly, but she gave her head a shake to clear her thoughts. Graham, where was he? She needed him.

"Graham only does what Graham wants," Joe shrugged carelessly.

"Graham only does what Joe demands of him...heaven forbid you get your own hands dirty!" Laura spat.

"Jealousy is a very ugly colour on you, Laura." Joe gave her a smirk that made her blood boil and a pounding begin inside her head.

"Jealous? Of you? Please!"

"Isn't that the problem here? You are jealous that he chose a better life working for me," Joe asked, his expression cocky and self assured.

"My problem is you. You !" Laura almost shouted, her voice catching.

"I didn't see you complaining when you were swanning around in designer clothes, driving the fancy car and living in the grand house. I only saw you living the high life and loving it," Joe was practically laughing now.

"I didn't know what price tag that came with," Laura hissed.

"You get nowhere in business without being ruthless. There's no room for heartfelt sentiment," Joe said, pouring himself another malt.

"Heart? You don't have a heart, yours is a swinging brick."

"Talking of hearts, how is yours? Not looking too well," Joe commented. He felt his stomach lurch as he looked at Laura properly. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat, she was breathing hard and her skin was sallow. She did not look well at all.

"I'm fine."

"Shame you don't have a platinum health insurance...oh, wait, you did have that didn't you?" He couldn't help the dig.

"Until you cancelled it," Laura gritted out.

"Well, I'm not going to pay for something that gives me nothing in return, am I?" Joe asked, sipping his malt.

"One day, everything is going to come back and haunt you," Laura hissed, her eyes flashing.

"I doubt that. Who will believe it? The mad ramblings of a scorned woman." Joe leaned back confidently in his chair.

"Which woman are you referring to? Me? Charity? Or Debbie?" Laura ground out, her vision blurring momentarily.

"There's that jealousy again!" Joe laughed, a harsh sound.

"I think you've met your match this time."

"My lawyers will sort it." Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's your answer to everything. Throw money at it. But, money doesn't buy you morals or friends or love." Laura said, one hand grabbing at the sofa arm to hold her steady. The pain in her chest was a steady pulsing throb, she knew this was bad.

"I have friends," Joe smirked.

"Graham? He isn't your friend, not really." Laura's eyes flashed angrily.

"As for love, well forgive me, but what I've seen of so called love is nothing I want in my life. You and Graham always arguing, fighting, hurting each other." Joe took another long drink of malt.

"Your father and Charity?" Laura asked, her mouth twisting into a strained but amused smirk.

"That was money, not love," Joe shrugged.

"One day you're going to end up sad and alone with nothing and no-one," Laura gasped, the pain suddenly increasing in her chest.

"A bit like you at this moment?" Joe asked, an arrogant pout upon his face.

"I...You...I," Laura began. She wobbled, her legs struggling to hold her up. The pain intensified, spreading out angrily throughout her chest and down her left arm. Her head swam, her vision blurring dangerously as she grappled for something to hold onto. Blackness threatened her vision and she felt herself sagging to her knees. "Help me," she rasped.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Joe asked, watching in amusement as Laura slowly collapsed to the floor.

"H...hel...help...me," she pleaded, clutching her right arm to her chest in a pitiful attempt to alleviate the pain.

"Oh, I don't think you get to demand things, Laura. Maybe I should leave you here, end all of Graham's problems for him? Wouldn't that be Karma for you?" Joe asked, slowly getting up from his seat and looming over her.

"Pl...please...can't...breathe," Laura whimpered.

"I'm sorry, Laura, I can't understand you. This conversation is over," Joe tilted his head to gaze down at her.

"Joe!...pl...please," she begged.

"Whilst I love to hear you begging, I'm afraid I can't help you." Joe turned and walked away, the sound of Laura's laboured gasps for breath the soundtrack. He smirked to himself and closed the door behind him.

He took a few steps away from the room when suddenly he faltered. Thoughts began blossoming in his mind, an image of his mother forever preserved inside a gilded frame. What would she do? Then another image, a memory of his time at boarding school, sat before the Headmaster after being caught bullying a younger boy.

"He's a human being, Joseph, a person with feelings. How could you be so cruel?"

Joe squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to rid himself of the thought.

"Just like your father, selfish!" His Aunt Zoe's voice echoed through his mind.

"For Gods sake," Joe muttered loudly to the hallway. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled as he walked quickly back to the drawing room. "Ambulance."

He stood inside the doorway, gazing across at the stricken form of Laura, she was lifeless on the floor and Joe felt panic rise inside him.

"Laura!" Graham's voice exploded from behind him. He raced to her side, falling heavily to his knees.

Joe had a feeling that this was bad, very bad indeed.


	8. Chapter 8

Joe sat idly at the glass table in the kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate cooling in front of him.

Glancing at the clock, he felt an irritation sweep through him, there was still no sign of Graham. It had been over 12 hours since the ambulance had left and he had heard nothing. He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed.

He picked his phone up from the table and dialled again, slamming it down in annoyance as he once again reached Graham's voicemail.

He sighed deeply and wondered what he should do, he couldn't take much more of this waiting, the longer it went on, the more obvious it became that Graham was choosing Laura.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance at even thinking such thoughts. It sounded so childish and petulant to categorise it as "choosing". It was like being back in the schoolyard, picking your friends and dictating to others who they could be play with.

They were adults and she was his wife, it was ridiculous.

And yet, Graham was the nearest he had ever had to a "true" friend. He knew he could rely on him, trust him, confide in him. And in return, he had repaid Graham many times over. They were friends in every sense of the word.

So, why did he hate his so-called friend's wife so much?

That was a question, Joe didn't like to answer. He had to admit, he had never liked Laura. He always felt she looked through him, as if he wasn't even there and that irritated him. He had always been used to women fawning over him, practically throwing themselves at him, yet Laura had barely given him a second glance. She obviously only had eyes for Graham.

When he first employed Graham, it had annoyed him to find out that his newest protege was married. Women, he had found, were a nuisance, a distraction and stood in the way of good business.

As he boosted Graham through the ranks, increasing his pay significantly each time, he felt and noticed Graham's loyalty grow. And, as his loyalty grew, Joe noticed his devotion to his wife begin to slip.

He would be in early each morning and not leave until late at night, always stopping off at the pub for a drink on the way home.

Joe had to admit he took great satisfaction at the thought that Graham's work commitments would undoubtedly be causing strain to his marriage.

Joe continued in this vein, giving Graham more and more responsibility, ensuring he did things his way, and as a result ensuring he had Graham's unfaltering loyalty.

Joe had realised at an early age that he hated sharing. It was a pointless exercise. How many times had he heard, "Joseph, share your sweets with the other boys!" How many times had he been told, "Share with your cousin, Joseph! She's only little."

Why should he share something that was his? He had never shared and he wasn't about to start now. He wasn't about to share Graham.

With each job, Graham turned further to drink, much to Laura's annoyance.

Graham had always enjoyed a drink, hell when he first spotted him cleaning floors, down on his luck, he had been nursing one hell of a hangover. For a time, he had reduced his drinking, but with each job, his need to drink increased.

It gave Joe a rather unpleasant pleasure at how this was affecting his marriage. Graham would confide about the blazing rows he had had with his wife, how she had stormed out of the house, or thrown him out, only for them to crawl back to each other with vows to change. It was a cycle that repeated frequently.

Laura had made her disdain for Joe evident, which in turn annoyed Graham and made Joe chuckle to himself in satisfaction.

Then, she had become a bit of a liability. Graham was now so loyal and indebted to Joe, that he took Joe's side.

Finally, Joe realised he had to be rid of the woman once and for all.

Seeing her packed off by immigration had been his crowning moment, and even when Graham had raged at him about his actions, the older man still didn't have the bottle to break away from him.

And now she was back, and it frightened Joe a little at how quickly Graham's manner had changed, how quickly he ran to her beck and call. Even with Joe repeatedly reminding Graham of Laura's actions in the past, it still didn't seem to have been enough to keep him from his wife.

He picked up his phone again and was about to dial, when he heard the front door click open.

"About time, Graham!" he called, getting to his feet. He strode purposefully into the hallway only to see not Graham, but his younger brother, Noah.

The boy stood awkwardly, hands stuffed into his pocket, cheeks pink with the cold and teenage embarrassment.

"Noah," he greeted in surprise. "This is an unexpected surprise."

"I thought we could hang out?" Noah said, his cheeks flushing further.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Joe asked, narrowing his eyes, though his mouth twitched in amusement.

Noah shrugged, "Yeah, but it's double maths. I figured if I get there a bit late it won't matter. I can catch up."

"Well, tell you what, let's have some breakfast and then I'll run you to school, pancakes sound good?"

Noah's face brightened, "Yeah!"

Joe turned back into the kitchen with Noah trailing behind. "So, where's Graham?" the boy asked.

Joe bristled, but brushed it away, "Out," he answered enigmatically. "He'll be back soon, in fact, I'll pick him up after I drop you at school."

Noah shrugged as he sank into one of the chairs in the kitchen, "Cool," he said carelessly.

It was over an hour later when Joe dropped Noah at school, apologising to the school attendance officer who appeared as soon as Noah got out of the car. Joe gave the stern looking woman his most charming smile and explained Noah's lateness on a doctors appointment. When the woman questioned who he was and why his mother hadn't informed them, he had flashed her a dazzling smile and informed her he was Noah's brother and that his stepmother had a scatty brain at times.

Joe had winked at Noah, making the boy beam happily. As Noah walked into school he had glanced back, a look of admiration on his face.

"Easy," Joe muttered, getting back into his car.

Joe put the car into drive and held it on the handbrake, revving the engine several times before releasing the handbrake and screeching away down the road ignoring the 20mph signs.

He roared through the streets out towards the ring road that would lead him to the hospital.

He had an air of confidence about him as he parked the car and strolled towards the hospital entrance.

The sharp woman on reception was very unhelpful, she questioned him about his relationship with the woman he was asking about.

"If I said she was my mother, would you tell me?" he'd smirked.

The woman raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, scowling.

"I'd say, guess again," the woman retorted. "The patient you are asking about is not available for visitors."

"Available?" he smirked. "I'm sorry, I thought this was a hospital, not a business meeting."

The woman scowled and turned away.

Joe rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, it seemed he was losing his touch.

He turned away from the desk and looked around, a cafe was at the opposite side and he made his way to the counter, ordering two coffees that were handed to them in a paper cup, a suspicious murky water colour.

He had just stirred in some sugar in a vain attempt to make it less like pond water, when he looked up straight into the dark face of Graham.

He gave him a feigned look of surprise, "There you are! I thought you might like a coffee," he greeted the older man. He studied his right hand man and gave an amused frown, "Graham, you look like hell!"

"Why are you here?" Graham asked, his voice dangerously low. His face was ashen, a dark shadow of stubble evident around his jaw, his usual pristine hair looking dishevelled. He looked at the cup Joe held out in disdain and glared at it.

"I thought you must be exhausted and that you'd need a coffee. I also thought that you might need a lift back home, you look like you need the rest and perhaps a shower." Joe said, placing Graham's coffee down onto the stained surface in front of him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Graham said, his voice a low rumble.

"Graham," Joe sighed, "come on, don't be ridiculous. You haven't slept and quite frankly you look awful. You've done your bit, come on, let's get outta here."

Graham's jaw tightened, he looked away, "I'm not leaving."

"Oh, yes, where are my manners?" Joe said, taking a rapid sip of coffee, "This is quite terrible coffee," he commented. "So, how is she?"

"You could at least sound like you care," Graham noted.

"No really, how is she?" Joe asked again, toning his voice to attempt sincerity.

Graham looked away, his face darkening, "She's going to be alright."

"There you go! See? All good! Come on Graham, don't get yourself too involved here, it won't end well. We also have a lot of work to do, but like I said, you could really do with a shower and some sleep..."

"I said, I'm not coming. I'm staying here, I need to make sure she's alright."

"That's sleep deprivation talking," Joe nodded sagely. "She's fine, a few days and she will be back tormenting us with her Americanisms and threatening us. You'll wish she had died..."

Joe let the words trail as he realised just what was coming out of his mouth. Even for him, he knew it was low and uncalled for.

"Graham, I..." he began.

"Do you ever stop and think about your actions or the things that you say?" Graham asked, his voice a new level of dangerous.

"I'm sorry...truly, I am. I was out of order, I didn't mean it how it sounded," Joe said, trying to sound calm and sincere.

"How did you mean it?" Graham pressed, stepping closer.

"You're making this into too big a thing. I didn't mean that I wanted her dead," Joe answered, stepping back slightly.

One moment, Joe was stepping back from Graham, the next he was being hauled by his jacket against the nearest wall, Graham's arm painfully against his throat holding him in place. Around them, people gasped in shock at the unfolding scene.

"Didn't you? Isn't that why you left her to suffer on the floor last night?" Graham snarled.

"What?" Joe gasped, gulping in fear and pain. "I did not!"

"She told me! You left her there to die," Graham increased his pressure against Joe's throat.

"She's lying! Confused! She was fine one minute, I called the ambulance."

"How long did you wait?" Graham demanded.

"I know, you're upset, it's understandable, but you've got this wrong," Joe said, his tone pleading.

"Gentleman, is there a problem here?" a security guard asked as he approached.

Graham shoved Joe to the side and released him, he straightened his jacket and turned to walk away.

"Thank you for the coffee," Graham called over his shoulder.

"Graham!"

"Go home, Joe."

"When will you be back? You're meant to be working!"

"I'm taking some of the many weeks holiday you owe me."

"Graham!"

Joe watched confused and angry as Graham walked away, leaving him alone. He looked around, checking to see if anyone had noticed, which of course they had, before straightening his jacket and striding as confidently as he could towards the exit.

He had just about got his nerve back when he saw a sight coming out of one of the Outpatients department that made him stop dead.

Debbie, with Sarah in tow, stopped also, her long hair trailing down over her shoulders, her mouth twisting into an annoyed grimace. She stuffed her hands into her pocket as she moved towards him.

"What' you doin 'ere?" she asked caustically.

"Getting a personality transplant?" Sarah quipped from Debbie's side, amused by her own sharpness.

Joe tilted his head and smirked, a brief acknowledgment at the girl's wittiness, he had to admit, she had a razor sharp mind, like her mother.

"No," Joe addressed Sarah, still smirking. He glanced back at the direction he had just come from and let his face fall, as if saddened. "I was checking on Graham,"

"Graham? Is he alright?" Debbie frowned.

"Oh, not him, it's his wife. She became very ill last night," Joe explained, a concerned frown on his face.

Debbie shifted on the spot, "Ill? Why, what's wrong with her?"

"Her heart, she has to take tablets, seems she left them in her bag and then misplaced the bag. She missed a few doses and it made her unwell."

"Is she gonna be alright?" Debbie asked, her face controlled, but with a hint of awkward concern crossing her features.

"Errr, yeah, I think so," Joe said, as if he wasn't entirely sure.

"That's sad, it's horrid bein in 'ospital," Sarah said, a look of genuine concern on her face.

Debbie turned to Sarah, "Babe, go and get something from the caff, I won't be a moment."

Sarah took Debbie's purse and walked away, Debbie and Joe watching her. As soon as she was far enough away, Joe turned back to Debbie.

"And is she alright?" he nodded towards Sarah's disappearing figure. "I take it that's why you're here?"

"Like you care!"

"I do actually, last night, seeing Laura so unwell...it's...well knocked me a little."

"You were there?" Debbie asked with a frown.

"I called the ambulance," Joe nodded, looking away as if the memory was too bad. "Laura and I might not always have seen eye to eye, but I wouldn't wish last night on anyone."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be fine. I'd better go," Debbie began, unnerved by the conversation and the expressions playing out on Joe Tate's face, she started to walk away. "And she's fine," she added, "Sarah, I mean."

Joe gave a sad smile, "I'm glad," he said before turning and walking towards the exit. As he stepped out into the cold morning air, he smiled to himself.

"Like takin medical insurance from a little girl..." he smirked to himself.


End file.
